


Green: Book 1

by orphan_account



Series: Colors From Beginning to End [2]
Category: Free!
Genre: F/M, Gen, Haha I'm trash, I'm Makoharu trash, M/M, and Reigisa trash, but seriously her fics are gorgeous, do read, started for Maybeillride, trash in general, you awesome person you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-02-28 05:58:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2721341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off of Colors From Beginning to End. Read that before this for the whole shibang. But you could start with this, whatever, it says the same thing at the beginning of this and in the whole of that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Winter Books

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maybeillride](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybeillride/gifts).



      Haruka hated black. Black was what came after a movie. Black was when you closed your eyes to sleep. Black was blindness. Black was the bottom of the sea. Black was the end of a tunnel. Black was when you died. It meant the end. It translated to the literal meaning of the conjunction _couldn't._  He despised that shade with every molecule of his being.

   Yet that was the color of his hair. Of his attire, black coat that covered a black shirt, he also wore black pants, with black lace up boots. The only not black things on him were Haruka's cream colored gloves and braided knit scarf. These were the exact clothes he wore as he stood on the corner of Onigiri Street and Ookami Avenue. There was a bench, but he never sat. Just stood in the snow. The people in this area of Tokyo were accustomed to him being there day after day in the winter, always at the same time. Always at 3:00p.m. after his classes ended for the day.

   Haruka's favorite color however, was green. Every shade of it. Even the gross, mucky, bogger shade like mucus. It was the color of newness. Green was the apple at the market. Green was the leaves of a tree. Green was grass. Green was a meadow. Green was what you think when you hear the word spring. Green was a fully grown frog taking its first leaps from a pond. It meant beginning. It translated to the literal meaning of the word  _can._

   When Haruka stood between Onigiri Street and Ookami Avenue he thought of everything associated with green. He thought of the color when the new people that just moved in and didn't know he was there everyday asked if he was an actor. They soon got used to his presence every autumm and winter throughout the whole seasons every year, everyday. It was a cycle.

  And now it was a different question, this one was asking for directions. And so he looks up into the person's eyes (he has to look up, seeing as they're half a head taller than him). And now he certainly thinks of a beginning, at his unknown first love's green, green eyes. "U-uhm, do you know where the bookstore Freedom! is?"

   "Oh uh yeah, I can take you there." he's retrieved from his reverie, looking at his watch, it was the end of his vigil. 4:00 pm exact. Talk about coincidence. But hey, work does start in 10 minutes, and Haruka does own the bookstore. So this was fine. He looks back to see Mr.Green Eyes following behind him curiously. Cute. Wide green eyes stare after him, almost a little bit too happy looking to be walking with such a gloomy individual. Seriously, how can he have such a bright aura when Haruka himself had such a dark one. 

  "I'm Tachibana Makoto, I just moved in."

  "Hm?" Shit, he was completely spaced out.

   " I said I'm Makoto, I just moved in." Still all smiles, how the hell does he do that?

   "Haruka. Call me Haru, no -san or -chan, just Haru." He mumbles, slightly perplexed by the attitude of Makoto. They had been walking for around 10 minutes now, nearing the little, humble bookstore he owned. Its little hanging sign of dark grain wood with the royal blue, elegant script writing Freedom! on it. Haruka pulls out his key to unlock the door, flicking on the lamp on his desk by the door. The interior was cozy and decorated with midnight blue walls that had the same, beautiful royal blue swirling decoration along the top, near the ceiling. The carpet was fuzzy and water colored, white squares with creamy diamonds inside of them. Five rows of bookshelves stands one after the other, Haruka heads to the back. To light the fireplace in the center of the of a circle of love-seats. Warm light flickers throughout the room.

   "Thanks for taking me here, you didn't have to open it early for me though." Makoto says with a smile.

   "It was nothing."

_What am I getting myself into with him?_

 

 

 


	2. Fill In the Spaces

   They had always stared at the single boy (or man, there's really no fitting noun for Haruka) sitting at the desk every visit. Always there, they were just guests, didn't know his story. And the few girls only looked because he was a college boy, in his first year at 19 years young or old, take your pick. Grown into his face in the 9 months since he arrived, become more mature. The very little amount of baby fat around his cheekbones disappearing, giving way to an attractive younger male. 'Course Makoto stared a bit too, only usual things on this Wednesday or Thursday (can't remember really). But.... It was more a fanciful whimsy of his curiosity that brought him to pause for a moment. Dark shock of raven- no, more pretty squid ink black- hair against pale skin, cornflower blues with thick lashes. A cute button-y type nose and thin chin. Gorgeous person indeed, or as his old friend's little sister Gou would say," Such wow, much glam, seriously, but what muscle is he hiding?" 

    The little bookstore on the corner was cozy and warm, a small nook to replace your shoes with slippers and to hang your coat and other. Comfy and homey, smelling sweet with cinnamon and vanilla, peppermint drifting about to. This could be a palace to Makoto and a slum to others. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy moly megane this is short, sorry guys. I'm running off of a Gogurt and some candy canes at 3:00am on a Monday, lucky I could churn this much out. New chapter will be up soon! <3


	3. Tis a Wee Bunny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memory lane a shit tonne of quotes that I personally love.

  " _Grown-ups never explain understand anything for themselves, and it is tiresome for children to be always and forever explaining things to them_ ," One of Haruka's favorite quotes from one of his many so favorite books, The Little Prince, by Antoine De Saint-Exupéry. It held strong and true throughout most of Haruka's childhood, always telling teachers the answers and how to get that, what some words mean, why this could be divided by this to make this quotient. Tiresome, and boring indeed. But.... completely and utterly necessary,  _unfortunately_. And now, he was sitting alone, as per usual on Thursdays, at his desk by the door, reading from one of the many poetry books his little book palace had stored away on the shelves. The certain poem was written by Dylan Thomas, _Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night._ Famous, yes, one of his favorites, yes, and the one he recited on the deathbed of his dear late grandmother at 14 years old.

  There was such passion in Haruka's voice when he recited it by heart, both of his parents had been taken aback at the display.

_Do not go gentle into that good night,_   
_Old age should burn and rave at close of day;_   
_Rage, rage against the dying of the light._   
  
_Though wise men at their end know dark is right,_   
_Because their words had forked no lightning they_   
_Do not go gentle into that good night._   
  
_Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright_   
_Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,_   
_Rage, rage against the dying of the light._   
  
_Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,_   
_And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,_   
_Do not go gentle into that good night._   
  
_Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight_   
_Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,_   
_Rage, rage against the dying of the light._   
  
_And you, my father, there on the sad height,_   
_Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray._   
_Do not go gentle into that good night._   
_Rage, rage against the dying of the light._

Their lanky, should have been awkwardly long limbs (as he had strode and moved with grace), had recited that whole, in all of his skinny boy glory. His grandmother had died with a smile and the words of him being just like his grandfather on her lips, she had raged against the dying of the light that morning. Haruka had watched English comedies all that week of summer, after his parents had gone back home. His favorite of those had stuck with him, _Monty Python and the Holy Grail_.

  " _I'm invincible!_ "

  " _You're a looney._ " Had said the old English accents, which made him laugh.

  _"Tis but a wee bunny."_

 _"That's not just any bunny._ " Were the lines before the seemingly innocent white rabbit made a bloodbath out of the knights, taking off heads easily.

   Memory lane had never felt so good.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hahaha here we go, I fell asleep while typing at first though.


End file.
